Comes the Inquisitor
by Nevermore
Summary: Between Seasons 4 & 5: Buffy can't always be around to help her friends, and while she's away the gang (also sans Giles) faces an ancient threat. (Complete.)
1. Prying Eyes

I guess this is the part where I include the disclaimers (I'm really big on disclaimers). Mutant Enemy Television, Inc. owns Buffy the Vampire Slayer. My use is in no way meant to challenge any established copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned, or any other, copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons (either real or fictional) is unintended.

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Author's Note: This is one of my older stories that I went back to, edited, and re-posted in chapters to make it more reader-friendly. (Fanfiction.net was only starting to introduce the Chaptering feature on the site while this was being written, and as I am resistant to change, that feature was not incorporated into this story until now.) I think the entire fic is better off now than it was before - dialogue is improved, characters have more depth, and it's overall easier to read.

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Author's Second Note: To make it easier to understand the chronology of this piece... the action in this story takes place after the close of Season 4 and the beginning of Season 5.

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This fanfic presentation of Buffy is intended for our adult and teen readers, and is not suitable for our younger readers.

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Comes the Inquisitor

by

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Nevermore

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I - Prying Eyes

"I don't exactly think this is what Buffy had in mind when she told us to hold down the fort," Willow said for the umpteenth time. Xander had given up trying to persuade his lifelong friend an hour earlier that patrolling was a good idea.

"You're gonna let them know we're around," he said instead, referring to any demons that might be in the graveyard. He hoped that strategy would at least keep Willow quiet; he knew she wouldn't be happy until they went home.

"You guys have done this before, right?" Tara asked, following Willow's lead in repetition. With Tara, Xander could at least be patient. Although she'd been around the group for quite awhile, she hadn't taken part in many of their late-night excursions.

"Trust us," Xander assured Tara once more. "Buffy's not the only one around here to partake in a little slayage."

"Okay," Tara replied sheepishly. She knew she was probably being annoying, but she'd never been out at night actually looking for vampires and other assorted demons. She had grown up feeling that much of the occult had a basis in fact, but it wasn't until she met Willow that she found out for sure just how much was frighteningly real. It was rational enough for Buffy to go out hunting the minions of darkness, but she had little idea why she, Willow, and Xander were actively hunting demons. She was only a witch, and not a very strong a one at that. Buffy and Riley had gone away only for a week, just a short camping trip in the mountains. Tara couldn't imagine how things could possibly get out of control before the Slayer returned.

"Wait a second, I think I heard something," Xander whispered, gesturing off toward his left. The three would-be hunters moved off in that direction and were immediately faced with a hand reaching out of the dirt of a fresh grave. "Yep, methinks we've seen this before."

"We have?" Tara whimpered.

"Just stay close," Willow said reassuringly, moving a step nearer her lover. "You'll be fine."

Within moments a vampire had extricated itself from the earth. No sooner had it arisen than it was tackled by Xander, who missed with his initial strike with his stake. The vampire snarled as it attempted to sink its fangs into Xander's throat, but by that point Willow had already begun an incantation and Tara had overcome her initial surprise enough to join her.

A moment later a bright flash erupted within the vampire's eyes. The demon shrieked in fear, thinking that it had somehow been exposed to sunlight. Xander used the creature's momentary shock well, sitting up and straddling the demon as he drove the stake into its heart, sending it back into the Abyss in an eruption of dust and ash.

"That wasn't such a chore, now was it?" he asked confidently, noticing that while Willow smiled, Tara simply continued to stare at the ground where the vampire had been destroyed.

"You'll get used to it," Willow said encouragingly as she turned to her girlfriend. "You did really well."

"You sure?" Tara asked, still uncertain that her performance had been adequate. "I was sorta surprised at first. It took me a little while to get going."

"You were great," Willow said, giving Tara a reassuring hug.

The three friends were so proud of their successful hunt that none of them noticed a slender form hidden in the shadows of a nearby tree. It seemed neither to move to conceal itself better, nor to move more into the open.

An old, thin pair of eyes followed Xander, Tara, and Willow as they walked away from the graveyard. _None of them is the Slayer_, he thought, not needing more than a fraction of a second to come to that conclusion. Only the man fought the vampire, and men could not be Slayers. _Those two women have power, though_. He licked his lips with anticipation at getting to see the two women again. Up close and personal. Despite his age, his heart began to beat furiously with anticipation as he already began to form plans for his next move.

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To be continued..................................


	2. Interrogations and Requests

Mutant Enemy Television, Inc. owns Buffy the Vampire Slayer. My use is in no way meant to challenge any established copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned, or any other, copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons (either real or fictional) is unintended.

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II - Interrogations and Requests

"Where were you?" Anya asked as soon as Xander opened the door to The Magic Box. He was just about to answer when Anya caught sight of Willow and Tara following her boyfriend. "You were out with them? Were you having some sort of strange orgy?"

"What?!" Xander asked incredulously. "Get a hold of yourself. Really. We were just out."

"Where?" Anya asked suspiciously.

"Around," Xander replied evasively, knowing even as he spoke that his answer would do little to satisfy his girlfriend's curiosity. He had undergone her Gestapo-esque interrogations often enough to know he had no hope to escape from her snooping so easily.

"Around where?" Anya asked again, this time turning toward the other two women. "Were you doing anything dangerous?"

"Not really," Willow lied.

"Where were you, Alexander?" she said menacingly, turning toward her boyfriend once more.

"We were on patrol," Xander admitted, knowing that he had best give in immediately once Anya started calling him 'Alexander.'

"I knew it," she said evenly. "You ditch me here to take inventory and then run off through the graveyards, having a grand old time without me."

"We were _on rounds_," Xander repeated. "We were slaying vamps. Not much fun in that, Anya."

"Really?" the woman asked sheepishly, her mood seeming to change immediately.

"Really," Xander said comfortingly. "And you're welcome to come along, you know."

"I can't," Anya replied. "I have to have this all inventoried."

"Giles won't be back for days," Xander pointed out. "Why do today what you could put off 'til tomorrow?"

"What if he comes home early?" Anya asked. "The shop has to be perfectly tidy. I've been thinking... and I want a raise. I can't get a raise if the shop isn't tidy."

"A raise?" Willow asked. "Already?"

"I've worked hard," Anya said. "I deserve a raise."

"Maybe," Xander said, "but you might want to wait until you've been here a little while longer."

"You think so?"

"Trust me," Xander replied with a wink, deciding this would be his best opportunity to change the topic to something that wouldn't get him in any more trouble. "So how much of Giles' trip is work, and how much is play? He wouldn't tell me."

"Well, the main reason is for his Druidic festival," Anya answered.

"That won't take more than a couple of days," Willow piped in. "I think he also wants to visit some friends and family as long as he's in England, though."

"He still has family that's alive?" Anya asked. "He seems a little old."

"I wouldn't mention that in the same conversation where you ask for your raise," Xander advised. "I think he gets a little touchy about the whole 'being old' thing."

"Anya, are there any books on covens here?" Willow asked, suddenly changing the topic once more.

"Umm, yeah, three of them," Anya answered, mentally patting herself on the back for being familiar enough with the inventory to be able to answer Willow's question right off the top of her head. "What exactly are you looking for."

"Tara and I were thinking about getting a couple of the girls from our Wicca group to join a coven, and we were sorta looking for as much information as we could get."

"Like an 'Idiot's Guide to Coven-Building' or something," Xander added.

"Well, we don't have that," Anya replied. "I'm sure Giles wouldn't mind you looking at what there is, though." She walked out from behind the counter and across the shop, poring over the titles of the books on the shelf. "Here they are," she announced, pulling three volumes out an inch and gesturing toward them. "See if they do the trick."

"Thanks," Willow responded, walking over and reading the titles while Tara stood by silently, seemingly awed by the fact that someone had written the books at all.

"So are you done with patrolling?" Anya asked Xander while the other two women started to read the synopsis of each book.

"I think so," Xander replied.

"Then I think we should have sex tonight," Anya announced.

"We can hear you," Willow grumbled.

"Okay," Anya replied absently. "So can we have sex?" she asked, not lowering her voice at all.

"Anya, please," Willow complained again. "We don't want to hear that."

"What do you have against sex?" Anya asked, her expression so innocent that Xander couldn't help but smile.

"Oh, forget it," Willow said, making an effort to concentrate enough on the book in her hands to make certain she could pretend not to hear Anya's and Xander's conversation.

"Fine," Xander finally answered, knowing that any other response would only lead to more discussion that would make Willow and Tara uncomfortable. He knew he had to get up to go to work in only six hours, and he wasn't even at home and in bed yet. Sex was the farthest thing from his mind, but Anya never took it well when he tried to get her to allow him to get a full night's sleep.

"Great," Anya said with a broad smile. She then turned toward the two witches. "Oh, while you're reading those, just make sure you don't read the last chapter."

"What do you mean?" Willow asked.

"All the witches probably die," Anya answered. "They almost always die."

"Really?" Tara asked, her eyes going wide and her mouth dropping open a bit.

"Yeah," Anya said. "Nothing good ever comes from a coven. Usually the women got burned at the stake, or drowned while on trial, or got beheaded and then burned - "

"Anya!" Xander interrupted. Unlike his girlfriend, Xander had noticed the look of growing fear in Tara's eyes as Anya continued on. He had no desire to make Tara even more unsettled than usual.

"What?" Anya asked innocently, oblivious to the effect of her words. "I was almost done. Sometimes they were just hunted down by angry mobs and hung on a tree, left for crows to peck out their eyeballs."

"I think we get the point," Xander said, nodding his head in Tara's direction.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Anya said with sudden understanding. "Just keep it in mind, though. Covens are bad. They always attract unwanted attention."

"From who?" Tara asked nervously.

"That's enough, Anya," Xander warned under his breath.

"It's all in the books," Anya said, dodging the question. She had suddenly become aware of the fact that Xander was getting irritated. When he was tired and irritated, he got cranky. When he got cranky, he wouldn't be in the mood for sex. She had to avoid that path at all costs.

"Maybe we should get going," Xander suggested.

"Probably," Anya agreed, dropping the ledger immediately and grabbing her coat.

"You two want us to walk you back to your place?" Xander asked Willow and Tara.

"No, we'll be fine," Willow replied.

"Yeah, it's not like there'll be any mobs yet, what with only two of you so far," Anya commented.

"Anya!" Xander said again, hoping that this time his girlfriend would be chastised into silence. He knew it was unlikely, but he could always hope.

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To be continued..................................


	3. Don't Be Araid of the Dark

Mutant Enemy Television, Inc. owns Buffy the Vampire Slayer. My use is in no way meant to challenge any established copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned, or any other, copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons (either real or fictional) is unintended.

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III - Don't Be Afraid of the Dark

Willow walked slowly down a spiral staircase, breathing in the musty, sour-smelling air. _How did I get here?_ she asked herself. Something seemed strangely familiar. She felt as if she was back in the old high school, but the surroundings seemed all wrong. It actually looked as if she was in an old Victorian home.

A faint breeze blew past her face, and she instinctively looked for an open window that could have been the source. She found none. All of the windows were boarded up, the spaces between various planks only wide enough to allow thing slivers of light to come into the otherwise dark room. Willow knew it should probably be too dark for her to see anything at all, despite the sparse light, but didn't dwell on the thought too much. Her surroundings still concerned her more than her vision did.

She continued to walk down a long hallway, finally coming to a door. When she opened it, she found a library, lit only by a single candle. The young witch walked into the room and looked around, reading some of the titles. _Curious George and Clifford the Big Red Dog next to Jane's Warships and Plato's Republic?_ Willow wondered silently. _What kind of library is this? Haven't they ever heard of the Dewey Decimal System?_ She continued to look at the bindings of books on the shelves when she began to hear a faint noise. It sounding like a dripping faucet, though somehow different. The sound was thicker, more like a splat than a drip, and its eerie familiarity made the hair on the back of Willow's neck start to stand on end.

Willow looked around the room again and tried to pinpoint the sound. It was coming from a corner, but the only thing there was a large bookshelf with only three books. She couldn't see a faucet anywhere near there. Willow walked toward the shelf slowly, her breathing shallowing out and her heart beating faster with every half step. Her fingertips started to tingle, and she could start to feel the blood flowing through her veins. Every one of her senses was focused as much as possible as Willow gazed at the shelf while also keeping herself alert for an attack from any direction. _Splat._ The noise continued with no obvious source. _Splat._ Willow shuddered as a chill went straight through her, making her feel as if someone had just walked over her grave. _Splat._ She stopped and closed her eyes for a moment, trying to focus her nerve. She thought back to earlier days, in high school, before she spent her time reading about witchcraft. Her love then had been for science fiction, and familiar words from a favorite book came rushing into her mind – _I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain_.

_I can do this,_ she told herself again and again. Her calm began to return to her, and once again she took a half step toward the corner. _Splat._ The noise went right through her, but Willow ignored it. She reminded herself of the horrors she had seen – the Master, Angelus, the Mayor. It all came rushing back to her, and suddenly she found it silly that she would be afraid of a little noise in a dark corner. _Splat._ Her heart jumped again, but she continued on. She would not be overcome by her fear of simple shadows. She would save her fear for something worthwhile – like the bogeyman that might be lurking in the shadow.

She reached the shelf and saw a liquid dripping off of it, and knew from its thick consistency that it wasn't water. _Blood,_ she knew before even examining it. She looked at the books, and noticed immediately that they were the same three she had been perusing in Giles' shop earlier that night. _Splat,_ the blood dripped off the shelf once again, this time landing on her shoe. It was then that Willow caught a familiar scent. "Tara?" she asked, turning around. Her lover was nowhere to be seen.

In horror she turned back to the shelf and looked down at the blood. She dipped the tip of her index finger into the ooze, and lifted it to her nose. Rather than the uncomfortably familiar, metallic, coppery odor she had always associated with blood, she caught the familiar scent of Victoria's Secret Rapture, the perfume that Tara always wore. Willow reeled backwards and tripped over an obstacle that had been unseen in the shadows that fell across the floor. When Willow landed, she bounced, ever so slightly, and rubbed her elbow against Tara's shoulder.

With a deep, shuddering breath she realized she was back in bed, awake from her nightmare and safe next to her friend. Tara also awoke with a start, looking at Willow strangely.

"Oh, you're alive," Willow muttered through sleepy eyes, laying her head back down and almost immediately breathing easily, drifting back to sleep.

"What?" Tara asked, looking over her red-haired companion uneasily. Unlike Willow, she found herself totally awake, her heart pounding away in her chest.

"I thought you were dead," Willow mumbled as she draped her arm over Tara's waist. Willow was back asleep in moments, but Tara lay awake for the rest of the night. It was bad enough that she had dreamt that she had found Willow's blood dripping from a bookshelf in an old home, but then Willow had awakened and muttered that she had dreamt of Tara's death. The coincidence tugged at Tara through the darkness, and silently the blonde witch began to wonder if Anya's warning had been right.

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To be continued..................................


	4. Studies and Confessions

Mutant Enemy Television, Inc. owns Buffy the Vampire Slayer. My use is in no way meant to challenge any established copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned, or any other, copyright.  Any similarity to any events or persons (either real or fictional) is unintended.

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IV – Studies and Confessions 

            The daylight had done a great deal to banish the fears that had beset Tara during the dark shroud of night, and now she found herself relaxing in the UC-Sunnydale library.  Gone was the anxiety that now seemed silly, and which was replaced by the more concrete fear of her Eastern Philosophy mid-term.  Not that eastern philosophy was all that difficult a subject for the young witch.  A devotee of the naturalist Wicca religion, Tara easily grasped philosophies such as Taoism, with its belief in a unifying life force throughout the world, and Hinduism, with its concept of an eternal soul that carries past rewards and sins with it throughout eternity.  She mused silently about how even Shinto, with its seemingly crude animist tenets, actually held some degree of accuracy in what she felt was the true vision of Wicca.

            "Excuse me, young lady," a low, half-whispered voice said.  Tara turned slightly in her chair and looked up into the coldest set of blue eyes she had ever seen.  A chill shot up her spine, and once again the pit of her stomach sank the way it had when she had been awakened the night before.  An old man stood before her, gazing intently into her eyes.  He was physically unassuming, only about five and a half feet tall, and very slight of build.  She guessed he couldn't have been more than a hundred and thirty pounds.  His pale white skin seemed strangely weathered, as if he had been exposed to the elements for a lifetime, his flesh first growing leathery before then being brought inside and bleached for years on end.  His clothes were simple, black pants, a white shirt, a black sports jacket, and a thin black tie.  A wide-brimmed black hat covered his head, revealing only a few wisps of stark white hair.

            "Wh-what?" she asked hesitantly.

            "Oh, I'm sorry if I startled you," the man rasped, his lips spreading into what Tara assumed was supposed to be a warm smile.  Rather than being warm, it seemed eerily malevolent, the pale, slightly parted lips revealing slightly gray, chipped teeth.  "I was only hoping you could give me directions."

            "S-s-s-sure," Tara stammered, trying to regain her composure.  The chills had stopped, but now it seemed as if her fingers and toes were starting to go numb.  It was an experience unlike anything she had ever felt.  A voice deep within her told her to flee from this man as quickly as she could.

            "Thank you," the man replied, his smile growing slightly wider.  The increased view of his seemingly decaying mouth made Tara wish he was not as happy as he appeared to be.  "I'm looking for the Rare Books Room."

            "It's upstairs," Tara gasped, relieved that she was completely familiar with the man's destination.  It would make it easier to get him moving along on his way that much more quickly.  The Rare Books Room contained many ancient tomes that had been reprinted only once or twice within the last hundred years, as well as translations of spells that both she and Willow found crucial for their training.  That one room alone contained more information on the occult than the rest of the library combined.  "Just go through those doors there," Tara said, motioning across the study room, "and go up the staircase.  When you get to the second floor, go through the door and turn left.  The Rare Books Room will be directly across from you."

            "Thank you, my dear," the man answered.  Rather than walk away immediately, however, he stood hovering over her, reading over the titles of her books.  "Very interesting subject matter," he commented, his voice growing louder and more gravelly as he spoke.

            "Y-yeah," Tara answered, hoping desperately that the old man would simply leave her alone.  She was beginning to regain her composure, and the feeling in her body was coming back, but she simply felt uneasy.

            "I remember studying eastern religions when I was in school a few years back," the man said.

            "Oh really?" Tara asked, trying desperately to balance her desire for the man to leave with her belief that she should always treat her elders with respect.

            "Yes," the man muttered.  "I'm a priest, you see, but back when I received my formal training our instructors didn't delve much into non-Christian religion.  That was left for us to learn later, on our own.  Of course, things are different now, more accepting of differing viewpoints."

            "You're a priest?" Tara asked, somehow shocked that such a wicked-looking man could be a man of God.  Now that she thought about it, however, something just seemed to make sense about his vocation.  The way he made her feel was similar to the way her father, brother, and the preacher in her hometown had always set her ill at ease.  She had once read in a book on the occult that said those that truly believe in their faith radiate a certain aura that causes non-believers to become uneasy.  It was, if she remembered correctly, referred to as the Light of the Faith.  Rather than concern her more, the information that the man was a priest seemed to comfort the young witch in a way she couldn't describe, and had certainly not expected.  "I w-was wondering if you could give me advice on something," she said hesitantly.

            "Giving advice is part of what I do," the man answered, walking around to her side and pulling up a chair next to her.  He sat down slowly, as if changing the way his weight was balanced on his joints was a precarious undertaking.  "My name is Raine, Father Raine."

            "Hi," the witch replied.  She couldn't figure out why she was suddenly finding herself drawn to the man.  Her first impulse, after all, had been to run away as fast as she could.  Now, however, the voice that had been crying for her to flee was now yearning for her to confess her transgressions against the Christian faith in which she was raised.  She held back from blurting out that she was a witch, however, and concentrated on her concerns about her lover.

            "I'm seeing someone," she began delicately, avoiding telling the priest that she was in an 'alternative' relationship.  "I think they might be in danger," she said instead, not knowing what else to say.

            "I assume you mean that he is in physical peril, and not in spiritual danger," Father Raine replied, assuming, as Tara had expected, that the witch's significant other was a man.  "Is this a matter for the police?"

            "I don't know," Tara replied truthfully.  She couldn't believe she was even having the conversation.  She had no idea if the coincidence of both she and Willow having what she guessed was the same dream was just that – a coincidence.  This seemed to be a conversation she should be having with Willow, and not a stranger.  However, the fact that he was a priest comforted her somewhat, and she was reminded of her youth, when her father would invite the local minister to dinner once a month.  As a very young child she had always been extremely secure in her faith, and was certain that God was always looking down on her with caring, protective eyes.  The feeling had faded as she grew older and religious people made her feel increasingly uneasy, but now a small piece of that security had suddenly returned to her, and she grew comfortable with her newfound counselor.

            "I've learned to trust his instincts," Tara continued, deciding to follow the lie that she had begun, referring to her partner as a man.  Tara had never been in the least ashamed of her relationship with Willow, at least until this very moment.  In the eyes of the priest, which in themselves seemed to be so completely non-judgmental, she suddenly felt as if many of her recent choices had been completely wrong.

            "And do his instincts seem to indicate that he is in some type of danger?"

            "It's strange," Tara answered.  "He woke up suddenly last night, disturbed about a dream he had."  Tara looked at the priest, and then her heart sank ever so slightly.  "I know we shouldn't be sleeping together when we're not married yet," she added.

            "That is a personal matter between you and God," Father Raine replied, his voice surprisingly patient and warm.  "I don't feel I should judge you on that.  You know the difference between right and wrong, and you have every right to choose.  These are enlightened times, the Church doesn't burn women at the stake for adultery anymore," he said with a rueful smile.  Despite his veiled condemnation, Tara smiled, too.  "So your concern is about a dream?"

            "The dream just seemed too much like a dream I had, too," Tara said, knowing how foolish her words must have sounded.

            "Perhaps the dreams were a message of some sort," Raine said in a low, urgent voice.  The sudden change in his demeanor caught Tara completely by surprise.

            "A m-m-message?" she asked.

            "To quote Shakespeare, young lady, there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophies."

            "I guess so," Tara admitted.  "I'm sorry if I've taken up too much of your time," she said apologetically, suddenly wanting to bring the conversation to an end.  I know you must have all sorts of other things to do right now."

            "I'm a priest, young lady," Father Raine replied with his unsettling smile.  "The only important thing I ever have to do is to watch over God's flock.  I will ever be at your service."  He reached a gnarled hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small card.  "My number is on here, young lady."  He looked her over for a moment, and his smile grew once again.  "What is your name, miss?"

            "Tara," the witch replied with a large grin.

            "Well, Tara, if you need any more advice, or simply someone to listen, do not hesitate to call."

            "I won't," the young woman replied with a smile.  As Father Raine stood and left, it seemed to Tara as if a great weight was lifted from her soul, and all of her concerns and fears went along with him.  All, that is, except for the fear of her Eastern Philosophy mid-term.

_To be continued.................................._


	5. Old Friends, Future Allies

Mutant Enemy Television, Inc. owns Buffy the Vampire Slayer. My use is in no way meant to challenge any established copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned, or any other, copyright.  Any similarity to any events or persons (either real or fictional) is unintended.

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V – Old Friends, Future Allies 

            "Hey, Willow!" a voice cried out behind the young, red-haired woman.  Willow turned, trying to see who was calling to her, but didn't see anyone she immediately recognized.  "Willow!" she heard again.  This time she caught sight of a young woman that she thought looked vaguely familiar.

            "Lucy?" she asked hesitantly.  Willow found herself face to face with a young woman with short, black-dyed hair, appearing to be the Goth poster child.  The last time Willow had seen Lucy, at one the Wicca club's meetings, the girl had long, beautiful blonde hair and a healthy, slightly tanned complexion.  The difference was like night and day.

            "Yes, Lucy," the girl confirmed.  "Bet ya didn't recognize me at first."

            "Good bet," Willow commented.  "What happened?"

            "I decided on a new look," the girl said needlessly.  Willow had already guessed that much.  "See, I remember when you were at one of our Wicca group's meetings, and you suggested we try out some spells.  Most of the girls laughed it off, but I could see in your eyes that you considered the suggestion completely reasonable.  The only reason that should have been was that you already knew some spells.  I figured you came to the group to find out some new stuff, and not just act all alternative and spooky like the rest of them."

            "Really?" Willow asked.  She had always thought that the only girl in the Wicca group that had guessed at the truth was Tara.  Apparently, that assumption had been mistaken.

            "Really," Lucy answered.  "I've been doing some research.  I've been up in the Rare Books Room, checking out books that you and Tara have taken out.  I've also been over to that Magic Box store.  You know, the one run by that stuffy English guy and that weird, bitchy girl?"

            "Yeah, I know the place," Willow said with a thin, amused smile.

            "I've even cast a couple of spells," Lucy said.

            "Really?" Willow asked.

            "Yep," Lucy confirmed, her face glowing despite the overabundance of black makeup.

            "What did you cast?"

            "Only light and darkness spells," Lucy said.  "It seems I have an affinity for them.  One of the books I read said that it's very rare to find a witch that's good at just about every kind of magic.  Usually there's some kind of specialization based on the person's personality, like summoning, or elemental magic, or divination, or whatever.  Seems I'm good at light and dark."

            "That's great," Willow replied, feeling some of the thrill that she had felt for herself when she had first begun casting.

            "I was wondering if you and Tara would take me in at some point," Lucy said suddenly.  "I know you two must be far ahead of me, and I have a lot to learn."

            "That might be fun," Willow said.

            "We could, like, form a coven or something," Lucy suggested.  At the mention of the word 'coven,' Willow's heart jumped ever so slightly.  It excited her to feel that the universe itself was going about making it easier for her and Tara to build the group they wanted so badly.  It seemed to her like a sign that a coven was meant to be.

            "Tara and I have been doing just that," Willow admitted.  "We were gonna talk to some of the girls in the group."

            "No point in doing that," Lucy said.  "I was just there last week, and they treated my like I had leprosy or something.  They just don't get it.  I know this other girl, though, and she'd be willing to join up."

            "You're sure?" Willow asked excitedly.

            "Absolutely," Lucy said.  "She's my... umm... partner.  I know you understand, what with the way you and Tara are."

            "Oh," Willow muttered.  She had no idea that word was getting around that she and Tara were together romantically.

            "Her name's Jamie," Lucy added, ignoring Willow's awkwardness.  "She hasn't gotten a spell right, yet, but she's been working really hard.  She'll get it pretty soon."

            "I'm sure she will," Willow answered.  "Why don't you give me your number, and I'll get in touch with you after Tara and I talk this over?"

            "Sure thing," Lucy said with a broad smile.

_To be continued.................................._


	6. T.G.I.F.

Mutant Enemy Television, Inc. owns Buffy the Vampire Slayer. My use is in no way meant to challenge any established copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned, or any other, copyright.  Any similarity to any events or persons (either real or fictional) is unintended.

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VI – T.G.I.F. 

            Willow looked over her partner again, feeling a slight sense of pride that she got to be seen in public with such a great woman.  Tara looked back, a smile on her face, and took a sip of her Whiskey Sour.  When Willow had suggested that they get a drink at the bar to pass the time until their table was available, Tara had seemed reluctant.  She'd reminded Willow that neither of them was legal age yet, but Willow hadn't been deterred.  _Just lean over and show the bartender a little cleavage, she had assured her friend.  __Especially in a nice place like this, they'll serve you every time.  Tara had resisted, so Willow had ordered for the two of them.  She took a sip of her Brandy Alexander as she smiled at her partner.  Sometimes Tara could be so shy, it was amazing.  Other times, she seemed completely at ease with the universe.  Even after all the time they'd spent together, Willow still sometimes felt as if Tara was a bit of an enigma._

            Willow glanced quickly at the clock on the mirrored wall behind the bar – 7:35.  As usual, Xander and Anya were running late.  Not that it was much of a surprise.  Xander always got hung up a little at work on Friday evenings, and with Giles in England, Anya had been left to close the Magic Box and do the day's paperwork on her own.  At least the two witches had the relief of being able to have a nice stiff drink while they killed time.

            "Tara," a low, masculine voice called out on Willow's left.  Both women turned just in time to come face to face with two priests.  "It's nice to see you again so soon.  What a pleasant surprise."

            "Yeah," Tara replied.  Willow noticed that her lover seemed very familiar with at least one of the priests, while she herself was set extremely ill at ease.  She wondered why her skin suddenly seemed extremely hot.  Her fingers started to shake to such a great degree that she had to devote almost all of her attention to making certain she didn't drop her glass.  "Willow, this is Father Raine," Tara said, introducing the priest.  "Father Raine, this is my roommate, Willow."

            "Good evening, young lady," the priest said smoothly.  He extended a hand, but Willow did not dare take one of her hands from her drink, for fear she would drop it.

            "Hi," she muttered absently, hoping she didn't offend the old man by not shaking hands with him.  With a quick motion that seemed to have been borne from the repetition of many years, Father Raine pulled back his arm in a subtle and graceful motion that made Willow wonder if he had even been offering his hand at all.

            "I trust you're feeling better," Father Raine commented, looking at Tara intently.  Willow wondered what the priest was talking about.  She hadn't heard that anything had been bothering her companion.

            "Absolutely," Tara said awkwardly, as if she was completely aware of Willow's thoughts.

            "Well, Tara and Willow, this is Father O'Malley," Raine said, introducing his colleague.  "He's the pastor of Saint Michael's, which is where I've been sent for the time being.  If either of you need someone to talk to, just come by and see me anytime, day or night."

            "Okay," Tara said with a smile that made Willow wonder even more about just what the two had discussed earlier.  Willow looked around anxiously, hoping for any break to the tense situation, and sighed with relief when she saw Xander and Anya approaching.  In fact, her relief was so complete that she hardly stopped to marvel at the fact that she derived any relief at all from seeing Anya.

            "I don't want to interrupt anything here, however, so I'll take my leave of the both of you two lovely ladies," Raine said, his voice suddenly becoming raspy.  He bowed his head formally, and then began to walk away with Father O'Malley just as Xander and Anya walked up.

            "Who were they?" Xander asked curiously.

            "Th-the old one is a priest I met at the library today," Tara replied, her stutter betraying her continued unease.  Willow guessed that Tara knew she would be expected to do some explaining later.  "He was in the library earlier when I was studying.  The other one is one of the local priests."

            "He looked familiar," Anya commented.

            "He's the pastor at St. Michael's," Willow offered.

            "No, not him," Anya replied.  "The older one.  He looked at me sorta funny, too, I think."

            "You think every man looks at you kinda funny," Xander commented.  "And then you want me to kick the guy's ass to show you how much I care."

            "And you never do," Anya complained.

            "If I did, then you'd only get to see how much I care from the eloquent writing in my letters from prison."

            "It never used to be that way," Anya went on.  "In the Middle Ages, if some guy drooled over me the way that some of those goons at the Bronze do, you would have gotten to challenge them to a duel."

            "Then let me be the first to hurray for modern society," Xander quipped.  "I guess our table isn't ready yet.  As usual."

            "As usual," Willow agreed.  "Count on things at Angelino's to never change."

            "Well, I notice you two luscious things have somehow gotten your hands on some pre-dinner cocktails," Xander commented, eyeing with no small degree of jealousy the drinks in Willow's and Tara's hands.

            "Luscious things?" Anya asked angrily.  "What does that mean?"

            "It means I'm probably in trouble again," Xander realized.

            "No, not this time," Anya replied with a smile, already noticing that the bartender was looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to order.  "You can just make it up to me by buying the first round."  Xander looked at his girlfriend in surprised glee just in time to hear her say, "White Zinfandel and a Bacardi and Coke."

            "I think this is gonna be a good night," Xander with a pleasant smile, all of his concerns vanishing from his mind once again.

_To be continued.................................._


	7. Nightmares Both Real and Imagineed

Mutant Enemy Television, Inc. owns Buffy the Vampire Slayer. My use is in no way meant to challenge any established copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned, or any other, copyright.  Any similarity to any events or persons (either real or fictional) is unintended.

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VII – Nightmares Both Real and Imagined 

            "Tara?" Willow asked uneasily, looking around their bedroom.  The darkness was oppressive, and the silence that surrounded the young witch actually started to ring in her ears.  "Tara?" she called again, this time more loudly.  _That didn't sound right, Willow thought as soon as she heard her own voice.  It took only a moment to realize that her room had suddenly developed an echo.  Willow reached over to turn on the light on the nightstand, but only found empty space waiting for her hand.  __Where the hell did my nightstand go?  Willow fought to increase her concentration, deciding that she must still be half-asleep._

            After a couple of moments, Willow ran her hand over the bed, searching for her pillows.  She found them quickly and decided that she had indeed been searching for her nightstand exactly where it should have been.  She tried once more, thinking that she had perhaps missed it somehow in the inky darkness.  Once again she found nothing.  She stepped carefully out of bed and turned on the light switch at the room's entrance.  No sooner did her feet hit the floor, though, than she realized that something was very wrong.

            _The floor is made of stone!  The thought flashed through her head, and confusion once again reigned in her mind.  She moved hesitantly, sweeping her hands in front of her to avoid running into any unseen obstacles.  After a minute of painfully slow searching, Willow's hand finally found a wall.  She started to sidestep toward her right, knowing that if there were a wall, there would also have to be a door somewhere.  Finally she found it – a heavy wooden door with large metal hinges and a cold metal handle.  Willow grabbed the handle and turned it slowly.  A slight click was followed by a thunderous boom as the metal hinges unstuck and then loudly squealed in protest as the door slowly opened._

            _I don't know where I am, but if there's anyone here, they'll be expecting me now, Willow realized.  As soon as the door began to open, a dim, hazy light came into sight.  The witch opened the door just enough to walk through, not wanting to cause any more unnecessary noise by opening it farther than was needed._

            Willow slipped into the next room, and almost immediately wished she had stayed in the blinding darkness of the previous chamber.  The large room seemed to be carved directly from rock, and had very rough-hewn walls and a gravelly floor.  Attached to the walls on the right side were three pairs of manacles, each set about six and a half feet from the floor.  On the left wall she saw an iron maiden, and a large pillar dominated the center of the room.  The light source, whatever it was, seemed to come from directly behind the pillar.  Willow noticed shadows begin to dance around her, and she jumped when, inexplicably, the light began flickering slightly.  _It must be some kind of flame – either a few candles or a small fire, she concluded._

            She walked further into the room, hesitating with each step.  The small pebbles scattered about the floor were sharper than Willow had thought, and she winced as slight gashes formed on the soles of her feet.  On the far side of the pillar, a small, lit brazier came into view.  Next to it was a small rack containing a cat-o-nine-tails, a bullwhip that had three small, metal balls attached to its tip, a black leather riding crop, and a feather duster.  She looked at the pillar again and noticed yet another pair of manacles, and she immediately concluded that the room was used either to torture prisoners or host rowdy S&M parties.  Given the oppressive mood in her surroundings, though, she doubted the possibility of parties.

            Further examination revealed a large, wooden, throne-like chair on the far wall which the pillar had obstructed from her view when she had first entered.  _What is this place? she wondered desperately, feeling certain that she recognized the chamber somehow.  __I know I've seen this before._

            Willow walked toward the throne, and as she approached she noticed that on the two arms of the over-sized chair each held a book.  A feeling deep in Willow's gut told her that the books held the answers to all of her questions.  She continued to move slowly, hardly noticing that the area in front of the throne had been cleansed of the gravel that had been causing her so much pain only moments earlier.  Just as she got to within arm's reach of the chair, moments before her hand grasped the book on the throne's right arm, she heard something for the first time since her strange visit had begun.

            Whispers began to grab her attention, and Willow turned to look behind her.  "Hello?" she called into the shadowy chamber behind her.  "Tara?  Is that you?"  A child's giggle was the only response she received.  "Hello?"  Silence returned for a few moments, but then the whispering started again.  Willow couldn't make out any words, but she was certain there were at least three people speaking.  _Children speaking, she corrected herself.  __There're kids in here.  Why can't I see them?_

            "Are you okay?" Willow asked hesitantly.  "Do you need help?"  The whispers continued, and Willow was certain she heard more voices join the discussion that was just barely muffled enough to prevent her from picking out any of the words.  "Are you okay?" she asked again.

            "We are now," she heard a small girl answer in reply.  The hairs on the back of Willow's neck stood up on end as she heard the voice.  It was strange, unearthly.  In her heart, Willow knew the girl was dead.

            "What do you mean?" Willow asked nervously, her sense of unease quickly giving way to fear, and showing signs of panic.

            "We'll show you," the girl replied from the shadows.  A moment later Willow was tackled into the large chair, though she saw no one actually attack her.

            _Ghosts, she realized, trying to suppress her fear and remain rational.  _Focus, Will,_ she told herself.  _You've been in worse situations.  Really._  She avoided dwelling upon the fact that virtually every other time she'd been in a bad situation like this, Buffy had been there to protect her.  Her gaze swept carefully across the room, but she saw no one.  She looked down at her right hand, and noticed it was sitting on one of the books.  She moved her hand enough to see the words 'Malleous Maleficarum' written on the front.  __Oh no! she thought, rapidly allowing panic to set in.  She knew that book.  "Tara!" she called out in terror.  "Tara!"_

            Willow picked up the second book and searched for a title.  None was to be found.  She opened the solid, midnight-blue binding and set her eyes on the title page – Compendium Maleficarum.  She slammed the book shut and moved to run out of the chair, only to come face to face with what she assumed was the young girl she had heard.  The child's face was blue, her skin dried and peeling.  Her eyes held no sign of life, but only looked at her vacantly through strands of straw-white hair.

            Willow screamed when she saw the girl.  "We've been cleansed," the girl said, her bluish-white lips parting in an inhuman mockery of a smile.  "Let us cleanse you, too."

            Willow sat bolt upright in her bed, finding herself screaming at the top of her lungs.  Within moments there was a loud pounding at her door.  She threw on a heavy white bathrobe and hurried to the door, instantly coming face-to-face with her RA.

            "Are you okay?" the woman asked, concern etched deeply into her face.  "You've been screaming at the top of your lungs for at least three minutes."

            "Nightmare," Willow mumbled as she began to wake up enough to realize she was drenched with sweat.

            "That's all?" her RA asked.  "That had to be some nightmare."

            "I think so," Willow answered.  The images she had seen only moments before slowly began to leave her mind.  All, that is, except for the rotting visage of the young girl.

            "Wait here," the RA said.  "I'm gonna get some coffee."  As the girl moved out of Willow's doorway, the witch noticed that several of the other women on her dorm's floor were standing at their own doors, staring at her.  Some of them seemed curious, while some of them seemed frightened.  It was then that Willow remembered her conversation with Lucy, and how she'd discovered that many people knew about her relationship with Tara.  Suddenly, Willow began to wonder if people also knew about her love of the occult.  _I can only imagine what they're thinking right now, she mused sourly, already guessing at some of the stories that would be all over campus by lunchtime the next day.  __Tara isn't going to like this one bit._

            With that one simple thought, a new wave of panic overcame Willow.  _Where's Tara? she thought frantically.  Willow knew that Tara had been lying beside her when she went to sleep.  Now, however, she was nowhere to be seen._

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            A cloaked figure waited outside the stone steps of St. Michael's Cathedral, unseen eyes scanning the darkness for an unannounced visitor who was, nonetheless, expected.  Minutes crept by, and finally the wait was rewarded by the sight of a young blonde woman walking slowly through the deserted streets of Sunnydale.

            Tara's gaze was vacant, and if her eyes focused on anything, it was only the sight of the cathedral.  For years, ever since she'd come to Sunnydale, she had grown accustomed to scanning all of her surroundings, searching every shadow for a possible threat.  In Sunnydale, on top of a hellmouth, lowering one's guard was a foolish invitation to disaster.  Tonight, however, she had abandoned her wary manner.

            Without a word, and with only an expressionless face, she approached the figure standing on the stairs and knelt down before it.  "I'm a sinner," she finally said, her voice monotone and empty.

            "I know you are, my child," Father Raine answered weakly from within the folds of the cloak.  "All is not lost, though.  God will ever accept you into his kingdom.  First, however, you must be cleansed."

_To be continued.................................._


	8. Questions and Answers

Mutant Enemy Television, Inc. owns Buffy the Vampire Slayer. My use is in no way meant to challenge any established copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned, or any other, copyright.  Any similarity to any events or persons (either real or fictional) is unintended.

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VIII – Questions and Answers 

            "Are you awake yet?" Anya asked Xander.  She only received a moan in response.  "Is that a yes?" she asked.  She'd been awake for over an hour reading a book that contained legends about her own exploits in Medieval Spain, and had finally decided that she wanted to begin her day.  No reaction was yet forthcoming from her boyfriend, however.

            "What time is it?" Xander asked, not bothering to open his eyes to see the clock that was sitting a few feet from his face.

            "Ten-thirty," Anya answered pleasantly.  Xander's only reaction to the information was to move just enough to grab the pillow from under his head, and burrow underneath it, preventing the bright sunlight from keeping him up.  "It's time to get up, Xander," Anya said firmly.

            "It's Saturday morning," Xander replied from under his pillow, as if that should have explained everything.        "You do this every Saturday morning," Anya complained.  "We spend all this time in this bed, but far too much of it sleeping, if you know what I mean."  She knew what he was thinking – it was just a half-hour until College Gameday started.  She refused to spend a half-hour trying to get her boyfriend to wake up to have sex, only to have him shun her in the end so that he watch previews of college games.  She never understood it – every week he spent over an hour watching previews, then several hours watching the games, and then at night he would watch Sports Center to watch all the highlights that he had already seen, and find out scores he already knew.  It made absolutely no sense.

            "Yes, I know I'm like this every Saturday," Xander replied groggily, finally realizing that Anya wanted him awake to have sex.  Part of his mind fought to wake up, but the rest of him resisted, knowing that Anya would probably still be in the mood later, and time to sleep was rare and precious.  "Just give me a little longer."

            "I've given you an extra hour," Anya said proudly, amazed at the restraint and patience she had shown so far.  The phone rang, though, before she could present her case any more.  "Damnit, who would be calling at this hour."

            "If it's late enough for you to wake me up, then it's late enough for people to start calling," Xander replied as he sat up to answer the call.  "Hello," he asked weakly as he picked up the phone.

            Anya waited expectantly, hoping it was a telemarketer.  Usually they were the most annoying people in the world, and she secretly held a hope that a new vengeance demon would be created just to deal with telemarketing firms.  If they got Xander to wake up enough to answer the phone, though, then at least this time their call would be welcome.

            "Oh, hi Will," Xander said, his voice immediately pepping up.  "What's wrong?"

            "Oh, great," Anya muttered.  Anya liked Willow, really she did, but she found it disconcerting how Xander would do things like wake up at ten-thirty on a Saturday to take her call, while he wouldn't even wake up enough to have sex with his own girlfriend.  If Willow had not turned into a lesbian, her relationship with Xander would have been very troubling.  "Tell her to call back later," Anya suggested.  She could sense victory in the air.  Xander was awake, he seemed to be alert, and football preview shows would not be on for twenty-five minutes.  That was more than enough time.

            "Oh, my God," Xander said into the phone.  "Are you sure she didn't just go out somewhere and not tell you?  Maybe she told you and you forgot or something."

            "Can't this wait a little?" Anya asked.  "Can't she give us about twenty minutes and then call back?"  She knew she asked her last question loudly enough for Willow to hear her, and that made her grin.  It always made Willow feel weird to have to think about her childhood friend having sex.  Strangely, and disconcertingly, Xander didn't seem to have the same problem when he was confronted with information about Willow and Tara.  In fact, in some perverse way he seemed to enjoy it.  Anya made a mental note to ask about that at some time in the future.

            "We'll be right over," Xander said quickly.

            "We will?" Anya asked, suddenly starting to wonder what was important enough to get Xander out of bed before noon on a Saturday.

            Xander hung up the phone and looked over at his girlfriend, his eyes containing something that had never been there until recently.  He had a certain intensity that Anya found alluring... and arousing.  She pushed the thought from her head quickly, though, knowing it would be useless to get turned on again when she and Xander would be going out.  She knew what the look was, though – it was responsibility.  Xander had only recently developed it, and it gave him a demeanor that she had never thought possible.  It had led him to get a real job, to move out on his own, to get more serious with her, and finally, and perhaps most disturbingly, to take seriously his responsibilities as a human being.  In the old days, he had often gone along with Buffy, Angel, Giles, and the others because he'd felt it was fun.  Now, however, he felt it was his duty to go out and join Buffy's battles against the forces of darkness.  Anya knew the look all too well – she had seen it before.  Many a stoic hero had taken up the mantle of protector of humanity, and all of them had died, usually painfully and violently.  Xander's newfound sense of purpose was both thrilling and frightening, and Anya knew that she and Xander would one day have to sit down and get him to think seriously about what he was doing.  Until then, though, she would follow along with him, to help keep him from getting himself killed.  Then, after the fight, she would put him back together, and comfort him, and bathe him...

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            "Are you okay?" Xander asked Willow as he walked into her dorm room.  He had rarely heard her voice sounding as it did on the phone, and he'd only hoped that she hadn't turned into a complete basket case before he arrived.

            "I'm okay for now," Willow said softly.

            "So when did she leave?" Xander asked.

            "I don't know," Willow answered with a weak shrug.  "She was here when I fell asleep.  Then I had this awful nightmare, and she was gone."

            "Okay," Xander said calmly.  He was getting a little nervous himself, but he knew the last thing he wanted was to let on to Willow how anxious he was.  He couldn't see how that would help anything.  "You're sure she wasn't planning on going out anywhere?"

            "I'm sure," Willow said.

            "And you've looked around in all the normal spots?"

            "I've been up since three this morning," Willow replied, "and I've already checked all the usual places two or three times."

            "Maybe she doesn't want you to find her," Anya suggested, appearing that she was trying to be helpful.  Xander wondered silently how Anya thought a suggestion like that would help much, though.  He reminded himself to speak to her once again about filtering – she really had to learn to think about what she was going to say before she said it, and remember to edit when necessary.

            "Why wouldn't she want me to find her?" Willow asked evenly, her face seeming puzzled.

            "Well, maybe she's got a man on the side," Anya suggested bluntly.  She looked at the horrified gaze from Willow, and shrugged her shoulders.  "Well, maybe it's a woman," she added.

            "Anya, please," Xander said sternly.  "You're really not helping."

            "Oh, and you making sure that Willow looked around the school in the dead of night was useful," Anya replied.

            "Has she been acting weird at all lately?" Xander asked, deciding to get back to the issue at hand and leave any reprimands for Anya until later.  "Is there some kind of spell she might have cast that might have gone wrong?"

            "Maybe she turned herself invisible," Anya suggested.  "Tara, are you here?" she asked as she began to spin slowly, looking for any telltale sign of an invisible coed in the room with them.

            "I think she would have said something by now if she was invisible, Anya," Xander said.  "Is there anything you can think of, Will?"

            "She's been normal," Willow assured them.  Then her nose crinkled slightly, a sign Xander meant that Willow had suddenly thought of something.  "Well, she seemed to feel something was important enough to talk to Father Raine instead of me, but that's it."

            "Father Raine?" Anya suddenly asked.  Xander immediately turned to his girlfriend, recognizing the tone of her voice.  He had heard it only one time before – when Anya ran into her old demonic master.  On her face he saw a light of recognition, and a chill ran up his spine as she gasped.  "That's the priest we saw at Angelino's last night, right?"

            "Yeah," Willow said.  Xander guessed that Willow saw the same concern on Anya's face that he did.

            "See?  I knew I knew him," Anya said proudly.  "It's just been so long, and he looks a little older."

            "You know him?" Xander asked.  "How?"

            "From back in my demon days," Anya explained.  "Back in... I don't know for sure... I think it was 1343.  Maybe 1344.  I never did keep really good track of time back then."

            "1343?" Willow asked.  "He's a vampire?"

            "A demon?" Xander added.

            "A ghost?" Willow suggested.

            "No, he's human," Anya replied.  "At least, he was back then.  He probably still is, I don't know."

            "Then how is he so old?" Willow asked, her curiosity seeming to temporarily displace her concern for Tara.

            "He had some kind of magic," Anya explained cryptically.  "I'm not really sure what it was, and I wasn't about to hang around long enough to find out.  He scared the hell out of me."

            "He seemed nice enough," Willow commented.  "How bad could he be?"

            "You want to know?" Anya asked.  Xander's stomach sank as he realized it had become 'Story Time With Anya.'  He knew she was about to tell one of those tales of hers that would inevitably keep him up for hours.  He hated hearing about his girlfriend's tenure as a vengeance demon, and he certainly thanked his lucky stars that he had no plans to break up with her in the near future.

            "What happened?" Willow asked.

            _No, don't ask her! Xander screamed in his mind.  __I don't want to hear this.  Despite his wishes, though, Anya told her story with the same glee that she always displayed when she realized she had information that the rest of the group wanted._

            "Well, as I said, it was somewhere back in the 1340's," Anya began with a wistful, faraway look.  No one knew her innermost thoughts shifted momentarily to the delight of the Black Plague, which swept through Europe less than a decade after her story took place.  She knew enough to keep such things to herself, and she focused again on the story at hand.  "There was this girl named Marisol, and her fiancée... I think his name was Henry, or maybe Harold... he accused her of being a witch.  He knew the accusation alone would be enough to get her killed.  This was the height of the Inquisition, remember.  People were pretty superstitious."

            "Every time I think about the Inquisition, it just pisses me off that so many innocent girls were killed just because everyone was ignorant," Willow commented in her trademark self-righteous tone.

            "Oh, she wasn't innocent," Anya responded, not seeming to notice the look of shock on Willow's face.  "In fact, probably about eighty percent of the women executed for witchcraft were guilty."  This time she noticed as Willow's expression moved from shock to horror.  "You're looking at the situation through twentieth century eyes," Anya explained.  "Sure, there aren't many witches now, but there were back then.  You really think there could have been irrational mass hysteria on a continental level?  You think all that fear came from nowhere?  No, there were witches everywhere.  They were practically crawling out of the woodwork, just like Mormons now.  It was a wonderful time.  Well, except for all the burnings, and hangings, and stonings, and mob justice --"

            "Just get on with the story, Anya," Xander requested.  He could see the growing look of distress on Willow's face, and he wanted to get this particular bedtime story done as quickly as possible.

            "Fine," Anya said, settling her lips into a pout.  "Anyway, Marisol's fiancée accused her of being a witch because he was apparently having an affair with Marisol's sister, Jane.  Jane was apparently fine with the whole plan."

            "Her own sister?" Willow asked, aghast.

            "Well, she was a witch, too," Anya replied.  "She'd made a deal with a demon named Arak'nor-Izall.  She set up her sister, which she knew would cause quite a furor in the town.  The demon apparently fed on fear, and with a witch in town, the one thing you could be assured of was fear.  Jane hoped to receive some kind of amulet or something.  I never found out much about that.

            "So anyway, Marisol's father was an eyre," Anya continued.  She saw the blank looks on her audience's faces, and decided to explain.  "An eyre was a travelling judge.  So he had some connections and was able to get Marisol imprisoned until an Inquisitor could be brought in.  He knew Marisol would be hung by an angry mob without a trial if there wasn't an Inquisitor, so he took a chance that he would be able to pay off the judge.  That didn't work, though.  Father Raine was the priest that showed up."

            "Oh my God," Willow muttered.

            "Yep, Father Azrael Raine, one of the most feared and zealous inquisitors in all of Europe," Anya said.  "Marisol knew she was doomed, so she summoned me.  She was apparently daddy's little girl, and followed in his footsteps.  She wanted justice, and nothing more.  While lots of girls would have just asked for a plague to befall her sister and fiancée, or wish for an anvil to fall on their head from the sky or something, she only wanted justice, to have them share in whatever fate their treachery caused her.  So I answered the wish, and both Jane and Henry were accused of witchcraft on the eve of Marisol's own trial.  Of course, as they were all guilty, they were all killed.  Here's the thing, though.  Raine doesn't burn his victims at the stake or something like that.  He tortures them, endlessly if he has to, until they decide to repent and give themselves to God.  Once their souls have been 'cleansed' he uses some kind of magic to drain the life force from his victims.  That's how he's lived so long."

            "An Inquisitor using magic?" Xander asked.  "Nothing hypocritical about that, huh?"

            "Hypocritical or not, he's probably cleansing Tara right now," Anya pointed out.

            "Cleansing?" Willow asked, suddenly remembering her dream.  "That's what they talked about in my nightmare."

            "Wow, he sent you a nightmare?" Anya asked, sounding impressed.  "I didn't know he could do that.  I guess he picked up some of the magical abilities of his victims along with their life force.  I wonder what else he can do?"

            "You're not helping," Xander said.

            "He's here to judge us, isn't he?" Willow asked Anya.  "He's probably using Tara and the dreams to get me to come after him."

            "You and anyone else that has a stake in protecting witches," Anya said.  "You know, I told you that whole coven thing was a bad idea, but you didn't believe me.  You witches never listen."

            "Anya, quit it," Xander said harshly.  "She doesn't have the benefit of a thousand years' experience."  Xander saw the deeply hurt expression on his girlfriend's face, and he was overcome in a wave of guilt.  "I'm sorry," he said, grasping her in a tight embrace.  "I didn't mean that," he whispered softly in her ear.  "It's just that Willow's already a little freaked out.  We have to help her."

            "I know," Anya muttered in reply, fighting tears that were threatening to well up in the corners of her eyes.  "I didn't mean it like that, Willow," she said, turning to the witch.  "We'll help you."

            "Thanks," Willow said.  "But I also have some other people that might be interested.  Let me make a phone call.

_To be continued.................................._


	9. Where Angels Fear To Tread

Mutant Enemy Television, Inc. owns Buffy the Vampire Slayer. My use is in no way meant to challenge any established copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned, or any other, copyright.  Any similarity to any events or persons (either real or fictional) is unintended.

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IX – Where Angels Fear to Tread 

            "Thanks for meeting us here," Willow said to Lucy while standing in the imposing shadow of St. Michael's Cathedral.  "I guess you're Jamie," she added, looking toward the young woman who had come along with Lucy.  The girl nodded, and Willow made a quick round of introductions.

            "Are you sure he's here?" Lucy asked.

            "We ran into him last night," Willow explained.  "He made sure to mention where he was staying.  I think he wanted us to come here.  He's setting us up."

            "And we're going anyway?" Lucy asked.

            "I wish we could get a hold of Buffy," Anya said.

            "Good luck," Xander grumbled.  No phones out there in the state park.  You'd be left to search thousands of square miles of forest all by yourself.  We really have no choice but to do this ourselves.  I'm just really pissed we couldn't get a hold of Giles.  I'd love to know if he knows anything about this guy."

            "I'll bet he does," Willow suddenly said, overcome by a wave of inspiration.  _That's it, she realized.  __Raine was waiting for this moment.  He had to have known that Tara and I are friends with the Slayer and her Watcher.  Only when they were both out of touch did he make his move._

            "So what's the plan?" Lucy asked.

            "Let me go in first," Xander offered.  "I could try to reason with him."

            "No, Alexander," Anya said sharply, knowing that by calling him 'Alexander' her boyfriend would immediately know that the subject was not open to debate.  "You're not going in there alone."

            "I'm not a witch," Xander pointed out.  "He has no reason to kill me."

            "You consort with witches," Anya shot back.  "Just like Henry in my story.  He wasn't a witch, either, but Raine killed him just the same.  He's a zealot, and you can't reason with zealots.  If we want Tara back, we're gonna have to take her by force."

            "Fine," Xander said.  "Then I guess we're all going in at once."  He checked his crossbow and dagger, and then led the group toward the church.  They all walked up the stone stairs and reached the door.  Xander opened it slowly, scanning the area inside before actually entering.  "It looks clear," he said.

            "Then let's go," Willow stated, hoping that they would be okay.  _I wish Buffy were here, she thought for about the fiftieth time since leaving the campus._

            They all walked in and looked around the empty, dimly lit church.  "Where now?" Xander asked.

            "In my dream there was some kind of dungeon," Willow said.  "I don't know if I was dreaming of this place or not, but it's worth a try."

            Xander nodded and started to walk toward the back right corner of the building.  He then followed the walls, searching for any sign of hidden doors.  The rest of the gang followed suit, and eventually Willow found herself alone in the sacristy.  She opened the closet and moved several robes and cassocks aside, and came face-to-face with a door.  "It's in here," she called out.  Moments later everyone was running into the small room.

            "No light switch," Lucy said after a quick search.

            "Then make way for Mr. Maglite," Xander said as he produced a large metal flashlight from a pocket he had sewn inside his jacket.  "That's right, it's Mr. Maglite," he said with a surly grin.  "Not only does he make a handy dandy source of light, he also puts in double-duty as a club.  Buy one at a Home Depot or Wal-Mart near you."

            "Just get going," Willow said harshly, hoping that Xander's performance hadn't alerted anyone waiting in the basement.  Part of her knew that Raine was likely already well aware of their presence.  He had, after all, made it possible for them to find him.  It was unlikely that he would then lower his guard knowing that they would be coming by eventually.

            The group descended the spiraling stone stairs in single file, guided only by the light from Xander's flashlight.  It seemed to Willow that they descended at least a hundred feet when Xander suddenly stopped at the head of the line and turned off his flashlight.  There was the faintest glow from below, and Willow could hear a slight moaning which she could recognize as being Tara.

            "Why don't you simply repent?" a man's voice asked.  Willow recognized the gruff voice as being Raine's.  "You friends will be coming in at any moment," Raine continued.  "I'll have to devote much of my time to them.  If you haven't been cleansed by then, I might have to simply cut my losses and kill you."

            "No!" Willow called out from the staircase.  She saw Xander turn around to face her, and could only guess at the expression he had.  _No doubt he wasn't exactly expecting that, Willow concluded.  She was about to apologize when Xander turned quickly and raced down the stairs.  Willow presumed that he'd decided to try to get down the rest of the stairs quickly enough to surprise Raine.  Willow doubted it would work, but nonetheless took off after Xander.  She could hear the others racing down behind her._

            Willow ran off the steps and into the same torture chamber that she'd seen in her dream.  Tara was shackled to the pillar in the center of the room, and Raine was standing next to her with the cat-o-nine-tails in his hand.  Tara was stripped to the waist and curled up in a fetal position on the floor, displaying a back covered with bruises and slashes as she wept pitifully.  Xander was already on the floor, apparently unconscious, and Willow was left to guess at what had happened to her friend.

            "Xander!" Willow heard Anya call out behind her.

            "Welcome to the house of God," Raine said evenly.  "I have, of course, been expecting you."

            "Ojo nocta," Willow heard Lucy call out behind her.  There was a faint shimmer in the air around Raine, and a moment later Lucy shrieked in panic.  "I can't see!" she cried out in terror.  "He made me go blind."

            "I simply turned your spell back against you," Raine said casually.  "I'm a bit older than I look, my dear.  I have come to understand my enemy enough to make certain that I cannot be affected by the spells granted unto you by Lucifer."

            "Lucifer?" Willow asked in disbelief.  "There's nothing demonic about our powers.  Look at her," she said, pointing to Tara.  "You think she's evil?"

            "Evil sometimes wears a pretty face," Raine replied coldly.  "You are yourself evil, my dear.  You are an instrument of Satan.  But don't worry, I will cleanse the taint from you."

            "And then use the same magic you disdain to drain my life from me," Willow spat.  The surprise etched on Raine's face was unmistakable, and gratifying.

            "You've heard of me," he said calmly, seeming to recover his composure in a heartbeat.  Willow caught a flash of motion from her right side and diverted her gaze enough to see Jamie running at the inquisitor.  He turned at the last moment to meet her rush and sent a kick up at her head.  The force of his attack snapped her head back as her lower body continued forward, and she was almost flipped completely over as she crashedf to the floor.  Her head hit the hard stone with a sickening thud, and Willow could see blood running freely from beneath the girl's curly blonde hair.  Seeing how easily Raine dispatched of Jamie, Willow was beginning to understand what had probably happened to Xander.

            "Anyone else?" Raine asked confidently.  His gaze settled on Anya, who was bent over Xander, completely oblivious to what was going on around her.  Willow didn't even have time to shout a warning.  A flash of light erupted from Raine's fingertips, and a moment later Anya was encased in what seemed to be a shimmering red forcefield.  Willow had never seen the spell before, but she could guess from Anya's look of agony that it was meant to cause pain as much as subdue an opponent.  She wanted to stop everything and gather her friends around her safely, but she couldn't focus enough to formulate a plan of action.  She'd already seen one spell bounce off the priest, so she didn't want to risk using magic.  After the way Raine had beaten down Lucy and, presumably, Xander, she doubted she could overcome him through brute strength.  She looked at Anya again and gritted her teeth, racking her mind for any sort of strategy, when she caught a slight bit of movement next to the girl.  Willow smiled and then went about undertaking the course of action she thought would be best.

            "Enough," Willow said, turning back to the inquisitor.  "What do you want from us?"

            "I want conversion," Raine said.  "I want to cleanse you."

            "And then?" Willow asked.

            "And then you will be sent to the Almighty, to free you from the chance for further temptation."

            "So you'll kill me," Willow surmised.

            "I will free you," Raine corrected.

            "And you believe that I'll be sent directly to heaven if I repent right now?" Willow asked.

            "Yes," Raine confirmed.

            "Then I'll surrender to you if you let my friends go," Willow offered.  "I won't resist."

            "No deal," Raine shot back.  "I could defeat you easily, and you know it.  If you had even a chance to win, you would continue to try.  I am not without mercy, though.  If you surrender to me, I will let him leave," he said, motioning toward Xander.  "The rest of you have been tainted, though.  I can feel it."

            "Not her," Willow said, motioning toward Anya.  "She's not a witch."

            "You expect me to believe that?" Raine asked with a smile.  "I can feel the magic coming from her, child."

            _Okay, so she's not a witch, Willow silently admitted.  __She just happened to be a demon for a thousand years.  "So Xander can go, though, right?"_

            "Yes, Xander will be free to go," Raine agreed.

            "Fine, then I surrender to you," Willow said.  Raine approached her slowly, and once within arm's reach he grabbed the sides of her head.

            "Open your mind to me, child," he commanded.  "Do you really want to surrender?" he asked.

            "Yes," Willow said.

            "You lie," Raine muttered.  "You're still up to something.  What is it?"

            Willow could feel his eyes start to bore into hers.  She felt the most uncomfortable sensation she had ever experienced in her life.  He was inside her mind, burrowing around, searching her thoughts.  "No!" he screamed, suddenly pulling back and turning toward Xander.  Willow heard a slight twang, and at the same time Raine stumbled back several feet and fell to one knee.  A crossbow bolt protruded from his neck and blood was erupting in spurts, spraying across the stone floor.  A blue light immediately began to glow around the wound, and his look of pain started to ebb slowly.

            "I don't think so," Xander said, and a moment later he lunged at the centuries-old priest.

            "Xander, no!" Willow yelled, but it was too late.  Her friend had buried his dagger up to the hilt in the inquisitor's chest, impaling the man as he would a vampire.  Raine let out a tired gasp, and then stopped breathing.

            "Merci beaucoup, madmoiselle," a young woman's voice said next to Willow.  She turned but saw no one.  "Thank you," another voice said.  Each voice was followed by another, and another, until the room was almost shaking with the sounds of disembodied voices expressing their thanks to Willow.  The witch looked back at Raine's body and could actually see it crumbling to dust before her eyes.  Xander looked to be in shock, but a moment later the forcefield around Anya dropped and the young woman ran over to console her boyfriend.

            Willow made a move to go to Tara, but saw her companion looking not at her but at Jamie, who was lying completely motionless on the stone floor.

            "I can see," Lucy suddenly called out from the entrance to the room.  "Oh my God, Jamie," she said almost immediately.  She ran over to her fallen friend, and Willow joined her a moment later.  The floor around Jamie's head was now covered in a pool of blood, but the girl was still breathing.

            "We have to get her to a hospital," Lucy said.

            "She has a head injury," Willow pointed out.  "We shouldn't move her.  It could only make things worse."

            "Don't worry," a voice whispered in Willow's ear.  "We can take care of her."  A blue light, eerily similar to the one that had been around Raine's throat, began to glow around Jamie's head, neck, and shoulders.  After a minute, Jamie's eyes opened up and she looked at Willow's and Lucy's concerned stares.

            "What happened?" she asked.

            "Healing magic," Lucy muttered.

            "I thought that was impossible to use right," Jamie muttered, obviously coherent but still not seeming willing to risk moving.

            "Seems ghosts can use it properly," Willow said softly.  The air around the three girls was dancing with light, and it then moved and started to dance around Tara just as Willow moved over to her lover.  Jamie had seemed to be the more critically injured person, but now that she was okay, Willow would devote all of her attention to her partner.

            "We have to get out of here," Anya said, giving voice to the same thought that everyone else was having.

            "Help me with Tara," Willow directed, and Lucy walked over, joined by a hesitant Jamie.  Once they were all freed and on their feet, it was a short trip back to the surface, and freedom.

_To be continued.................................._


	10. Dealing With It

Mutant Enemy Television, Inc. owns Buffy the Vampire Slayer. My use is in no way meant to challenge any established copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned, or any other, copyright.  Any similarity to any events or persons (either real or fictional) is unintended.

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X - Dealing With It 

            Xander walked into the Magic Box on Monday morning, surprising Anya by not being at work.  "What are you doing here?" she asked, concern obvious in her voice.

            "I couldn't go to work today," he explained.  "I just... I don't know.  I can't get over what happened the other day."  He looked around, making certain that he and Anya were alone.  "I killed a guy, An.  Not only that, I killed a priest."

            "You had to do it," Anya said softly, grasping Xander in a tight embrace, trying to comfort him.  She knew that he had hardly slept since Tara had been rescued, but she hadn't been aware of how upset he actually was.  "He would have killed Willow," Anya reminded her boyfriend.  "He would have killed me, too."

            "I know," Xander admitted.  He was about to say more when the bell at the door rang softly, and both Anya and Xander turned to see Willow and Tara walking into the store.

            "Hi," Willow said meekly.  Tara just kept her eyes directed toward the floor, seeming unwilling to even make eye contact with anyone.  "Couldn't go to work?" she asked Xander.  He shook his head.  "Neither of us could handle school today," Willow muttered.

            "Why don't we go to the diner and get a chocolate malted," Anya suggested.  They all turned to her with the same confused look on their faces, and she simply shrugged her shoulders in response.  "Well, it always cheers me up," she explained.

            "When is Giles getting back?" Willow asked.

            "Any minute now," Anya answered.  "He said he'd be here by the time we open.  Buffy should be picking him up at the airport.  Guess she would have to, since she was borrowing his car and all."

            "I still can't believe he let her do that," Xander said, a small smile creeping across his face. "She may be a great slayer, but her driving skills leave a lot to be desired."  Everyone gave a small chuckle, and for the briefest of moments everything seemed as pleasant as it had before the Inquisitor had come into their lives.  "I don't think we should mention any of what happened to Buffy or Giles," Xander suggested.

            "Why not?" Tara asked, finally deciding to take part in the conversation.

            "I don't know..." Xander replied.  "It's just that, well, she always does everything around here, you know?  This could be our little secret.  We can all know that when push comes to shove, we can fight the good fight even without the chosen one."

            "I'm fine with that," Willow said.

            "Me too," Tara added.

            "It'll also prevent us having explain why we killed a priest," Anya commented.  Xander winced at her words, and the mood darkened once again.  "Oh, I'm sorry," she apologized.

            "Well, at least this time you realized you said something wrong," Xander said.  "At least it seems like we're making progress."  He forced a smile onto his face.  "Now let's go get that chocolate malted before we have to open this place, huh?"

Fin


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